


Dreaming of Past and Future Days

by KalendraAshtar



Category: Outlander (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 05:20:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6787048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KalendraAshtar/pseuds/KalendraAshtar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Claire went back to Frank before being taken to Fort William? Would she regret her choice and find her way back to Jamie?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Part I**

I grew up without a place.

When I was a young girl that carried little weight to me. I had Uncle Lamb, our travels, a world without end. But slowly as I grew up and particularly as I became a woman, I started to feel within me a deep yearning to settle, to have a family of my very own, and to let roots grow in one place. I craved to belong.

I think that was the main thing that attracted me to Frank. He was a man, not a boy, and with him came the promise of a lifetime together, a place forever by his side, children with brown eyes and a house to spend Christmas in. I was very much in love with him, and the idea of a life with him, by our third date.

But what I’ve come to know is this: there is a place where I belong more than the life that was so real to me before. And that is the place I ought to be.

***

I came through the stones feeling that my head was an inch away from getting crushed. The buzzing sound erased all other things filling me with dread. I was face down on the mud and couldn’t care less. It seemed the mere existence of time was irrelevant.

When I finally came to my senses in the middle of the stone circle at Craigh na Dun and regain the ability to walk, I started towards Inverness and the life I had left behind.

The following days seem to blur in my memory. I know I went to Reverend Wakefield’s house and I can remember his face when he saw me. I might as well have been a ghost on Samhain. He called Frank on the telephone and I slept. This much I know – I escaped an unknown future and all the sorrow that was looming over me and embraced a dreamless darkness. Before I went to sleep I burned the clothes that I was wearing, proof of something I was very willing to deny at the time. Reverend Wakefield knew better than to ask questions.

When Frank arrived, I was sitting in the living room staring at the window, each fiber of me trying to be stitched back together in one coherent Claire Randall. He opened the door and ran to take me in his arms, a joyful scream caught in this throat. He hugged me and kissed me, mouth, temples, cheeks, hair. He was crying and I don’t think I ever saw him crying…well at least not before that day. I was happy to see him but all my body felt strangely numb. He made the fatal question, the one I was preparing myself all that time to answer.

“Where were you? What happened?” He asked, unable to stop touching me in every inch of skin he could get to.

“I…I went to the stone circle to look up some plants. And then I had this freak accident… I hit my head and when I woke up I couldn’t remember anything.” I licked my dry and numbed lips and fixed a point just above his shoulder to talk to. It was harder to lie staring at his eyes.

“I didn’t know who I was or what I was doing there. I didn’t remember you…sorry. So I wonder off.”

“To where?” He sounded shocked.

“A lot of places. I was still good at nursing so I did a little bit of that.” I added. I was trying to be evasive and keeping it simple because I was never that good on bending the truth and was very afraid that he could see right through me.

“Yesterday I woke up and just had all these memories back and so I came here looking for you.” I finished with a weak smile. I peeked at the Reverend who was very overtly avoiding my gaze. He had seen the clothes I was in when I arrived and therefore knew I was not being absolutely sincere.

“That is quite a story my love. You had me sick with worrying!” He rubbed my hands and found the foreign metal touch of my silver ring. “What is that?”

“Oh…!” I swallowed a scream. I hadn’t tought about that. “Found it in the circle back then and had it on all this time. Didn’t know if it was meaningful or not.” I protectively covered the ring with my hand. _Don’t think about it know, Beauchamp._

The historian in Frank couldn’t let go. “It looks rather ancient, doesn’t it? Very rudimental.”

“I guess so, yes.” I smiled weakly.

He asked more questions and I kept the answers short and vague, my mind still having trouble to adjust to the new (or old?) surroundings. I knew he was relieved beyond words, although my tale was something out of a novella.

As Frank was out arranging our trip to London I went to the back garden, seeking the peace plants and nature could always give me. Reverend Wakefield followed me outside and sat next to me in the grass, in silence, for quite some time. Then he said “Wherever you were, are you sure you’re back? Professor Randall suffered a great deal when you were…away. Are you here now?” He spoke with the softer of voices, almost a whisper.

“I’m here.” I said and shut my eyes against the soft touch of the Scottish sun. I didn’t know if I was, to be sure. But I wanted to be. It had been my choice. I just needed time to adjust, I thought. I was so tired.

We went home later that day. Or at least to the flat Frank now called home. He talked during the journey and I tried to listen and make some interested remarks. He kept saying that our life started now anew, everything will be better from now on. I wished it ardently to be so.

When we arrived I took a bath with running water, something I had dreamt about countless times during my stay at Leoch _. Leoch_. I started to think about the castle, Mrs.Fitz, Collum, Dougal, Ned… _Jamie_. I felt shattered, like a ship after a mighty storm and a wreck, and couldn’t find the strength to let my emotions and thoughts run free. I put my heart in a vault and locked it away for some time.

When Frank came to bed he touched me lightly, a question of the flesh, and for the first time in my shared life with him, I pretended to be asleep.

The next day Frank had some classes he couldn’t miss and I was left to my own devices. I walked for hours in the street, absorbing all life in the twentieth century had to offer, trying to find joy in little things. I chose to be there. It was my time, my place, my people. I had my life back and Frank. My husband. I should be filled with happiness.

I brushed with a tall red-haired man on Piccadilly and my stomach crumped in a tight ball. “He is in the past Beauchamp, twice over, get a fucking grip!” I reprimanded myself. It was taking me more time than I have presumed to come to my senses.

I went home, put on a brave face and made dinner, determined to mend my relationship with my husband.

That night Frank made love to me.

I came to bed after brushing my always stubborn hair and he was already there, waiting for me. He turned to me in silence and took my mouth with a desperation that was somewhat overwhelming. In that moment I couldn’t think of a reason not to let him do as he wished and so I laid there as he took my body, trying so hard not to think at all, to be lost in a moment of pure release that could quell all my doubts. During all the years we’ve spent together our encounters were always satisfying and filled with passion. Frank was as refined and methodic in love as he was in his studies. He always managed to rouse me to him and filled me with a burning desire.

But this time only a shell was there. I tried desperately to seek oblivion, to be in the moment there with him or at least to be lost in him, and couldn’t. My body didn’t rouse to him. In fact, I was for the first time wishing the sex to be over and to seek the peacefulness of deep sleep.

During the war we had spent years apart with only brief rendez-vous to remind us of the meaning of our marriage. And still I never felt him so much a stranger as I did that night. Could it be that some months have changed us more than years of battlefields?

When he reached his release he looked me very close in the eyes and I was afraid he could see there how torn I was.

“I love you, Claire.” He said tenderly. My eyes started tearing up and so I closed them and softly kissed his lips.

Afterwards he was asleep and I tried to join him there without success. I rolled in bed for what seemed like hours, my body aching for something I could not quite comprehend. When I finally came to sleep was almost morning.

That was the first time I dreamt about Jamie.


	2. Part II

**Part II**

I was back with him in our room at the inn on our wedding night. I saw the countless candles that lent a soft glow to our bodies intertwined in our third encounter. I was holding him then, embracing him with his kilt, sheltering him against all that wasn’t me. I remembered how tender I felt back then, looking in those deep blue eyes as I made love to him. _Yes._ I had made love to him in that moment, my body pulsing with emotions that went beyond those of the flesh. I was very much roused by him and only the two of us existed at that time. I could feel my heart pounding both in and out of the dream and remembered his words in the soft Highland burr _“I thought my heart was going to burst”._   

I could feel him smiling a little as he kissed me, a kiss that went for hours or so it seemed, and I would have gladly drown in his mouth. I rocked harder then and he tensed, his body arching like a bow ready to shoot an arrow, and by then I didn’t know where he ended and I began.

As the waves of pleasure hit me with ferocity and I called his name the dream changed.

I saw a dark room with stone walls, a table filled with plants and papers and a narrow cot that I quickly recognized as my surgery at Leoch. Jamie was standing there dressed like he had been on the road. I could see his face and gasped with the changes from his natural good hearted lines. He had deep creases around his mouth and temples and dark scouts under his eyes, which were reddened, a little puffy and a blue much darker than usual. I thought he had been crying.

“Where are ye, Claire?” He whispered, his rich voice almost inaudible.

Jamie touched my bed, a brushing of his fingers across the linen. I saw he was holding one of my hair ribbons with his other hand.

And then suddenly he was trashing the table and all that rested there, the floor getting flooded with herbs and bowls. He was panting hard as he went on and took the clothes from the bed and ripped them apart. I was shocked and would have yelled at him if I could.

It was quite the spectacle, seeing the explosion of such emotions. I thought he had come to a place of hating me and wanted to erase all that was left of me that he could touch.

But after some time like he had been stripped out of all energy he collapsed on the floor, half-sited and cried. I never knew it was possible to cry so hard without making a sound. Tears streamed down his face like a river that was too strong to be contained by a dam, breaking all barriers and flooding everything.

“Claire….” He sighed. Then I knew he was filled with such grief, the kind of grief that could only come of a place of love and never hate.

I wished ardently to comfort him, to hold him in my arms and tell him all would be fine, that he would meet someone that could be with him in a way that I could never be. But also that I could never regret the days spent with him and would carry them with me always, much deeper within me than I was willing to accept in the light of day and wakefulness.

I heard footsteps on the stairs and as Jamie turned his head to face the person coming down I woke up.

I opened my eyes slowly, fearfully. I was laying on my side, curled up, all my muscles tensed up. I felt wetness on my cheeks and brushed it up only to find out I had been crying. My heart was thumping and my throat felt tight and within me was a hollow place that was all new, aching.

“Jamie….” I couldn’t resist the urge to say his name, even knowing my other husband sleeping obliviously next to me. I felt more of a traitor than ever but not as guilty as I’d been.

Was I dreaming or somehow I had really seen him? Our recent and fragile connection, strong enough to allow me to be with him in my dreams?

That sounded like the ravings of a mad woman, a delirium of a psych ward patient, but then again travelling back in time through magical stones was also pretty farfetched.

I laid there awake, filled with fear and wanting. Would I see him again if I went to sleep? Would that be worse than never seeing him again? Was he really hurting for me?

I was wide awake. Not only of sleep but in my heart. All the things I had carefully placed in that vault now scattered in me, reaching the surface, begging to be acknowledged. Every kiss and touch shared with Jamie revived in memory. The lines of his face and body, the smile that always seemed to reach his eyes, the grace of him, his flaming hair, the words he spoke softly that were only for me. God and being loved by him. Above all rest, being loved by him.

Beside me Frank moved in his sleep, rolling and putting his arm around me, seeking me in his dreams. Right then I felt so torn I feared I would physically split in two.

The next few days passed like a rustling of leaves on autumn time. I was determined to face the choices I had made and to live with the consequences of it. Frank was my husband, a good man that had given me a place to call home. He loved me well in his way.

Still I couldn’t bring myself to fully embrace him in my arms and heart. In the silent hours of the night when he sought my body and made wordless declarations of love and lust, I retreat to that hollow place that I began to feel as a scar. The scar Jamie had left in me. Every touch summoned in me an eco of the flesh and I couldn’t avoid to establish some dangerous parallelisms between the two men that were my husbands.  

I had married Jamie out of necessity. Took him the first time out of duty. But I knew it went well beyond that in our time together. I had that dream well present in mind and knew his feelings ran very deep. _“Is it always so between a man and a woman?”_ His voice asked. Not quite, I thought.

One night Frank invited some colleagues to dinner and drinks at our place. I played my part with flying colors, feeling that maybe time could actually heal all wounds and that someday my time in the eighteenth century would begin to feel like a dream. I enjoyed myself for a good bit, a very welcomed surprise.

Then the conversation turned to their recent investigations.

“I’m doing some research about the clans in the Highlands of Scotland. I’m particularly interested in Culloden and the wiping out of the clans. There are some fantastic stories of survival and resistance among the scots at that time.” Said Herbert, one of Frank closest colleagues and friends. That hollow place in my chest came back with a snap.

“Oh that is such an interesting theme!” Frank was really excited. “I made some research of that subject myself and have some documents I can share with you.”

I drank a long sip of my whisky.

“I have one better! I want you to join me in my work. Maybe spend a bit of time in Scotland. I know you and your wife appreciate the area. Don’t you Mrs. Randall?” He smiled politely at me. I could have ripped his face off.

“Indeed.” I poured some more whisky in my glass and Frank sent me a derogatory look.  

“I would like that very much.” Frank said raising his glass in recognition. “Such a shame an entire way of living that disappeared in a heartbeat. So many young men gave their lives for a doomed cause.”

“Could we change the subject, please?” I almost begged, feeling my chest constricted and my temples burning.

“Is everything alright love?” asked Frank distractedly. “You look a bit pale.”

“Yes, such a shame, such a shame.” Proceeded Herbert, ignoring me – the prick! “It wasn’t the smartest of moves, we know that now, believing in a Stuart King that seemed like a boy learning to play with his cock.” He laughed, taking one more piece of chocolate fudge cake.

“Well they were a bit barbaric and had that ludicrous sense of honor that pushed them to their ends…” Added Frank, mildly.

I had a vision of Jamie, the most honorable man I ever knew, falling to his death in a golden field.

“Stop it!” I screamed. “You don’t know how it was! You don’t know them, at all.” It took a moment for me to realize that I had actually yelled it and not only thought it.

“Claire, what the hell…?” Frank was red and clearly very embarrassed of my behavior. I started out of the room.

“I’m sorry, you’re right. I’m not feeling that well” I said, covering my face so he couldn’t see the tears that threatened to overpower me. “I’ll go lie down a bit. Good night gentlemen.”

They rambled their goodbyes and I was locked in our bedroom before Frank had time to ask me anything else.

“What is wrong with me?” I demanded from the face that was reflected in the mirror, eyes tormented. I thought I was doing better, before.

I laid down, the pulse in my throat throbbing. I couldn’t dissipate the horror that filled me at the image of Jamie dying in Culloden. I knew he was dead _in my time_ , but I couldn’t bear to think of his life shortened, the life that was his right.

I had no wish to know of the life he led without me. It hurt too much.

Eventually I fell asleep. I dreamt about Jamie again that night.

He was kissing Laoghaire.


	3. Part III

**Part III**

At first I thought I was seeing again the kiss shared in the alcove of the Castle during my time there. But then I realized the two images didn’t fit together and my heart tightened.

Jamie was sitting on a wooden bench and Laoghaire was bending over him, her lips pressed against Jamie’s like two magnets who came together. She was stroking his hair in a way that made me want to rip her pretty eyes out, memories of me caressing him that exact same way flooding my brain. But I realized with a thud that he was not embracing her in his arms, his hands weren’t around her waist, not the way they used to be around mine.

With an impossible gentle gesture Jamie pushed Laoghaire away an inch. I could see his eyes then and they were the color of dark skies filled with thunder.

“Stop lass.” He said. “It’s nay right and ye know it”.

He stood up then, towering her like a grown tree over a little weed.

“I’m still a marrit man even if I’m wifeless at present.” He looked at the blonde girl with a kind smile. “I thank ye for the comfort lass, but I cannot use ye this way.”

“But I want to Jamie!” She urged, advancing until their bodies were once more close to each other. “She’s not coming back, she was an English spy, we all knew it!” She licked her lips, like she could still taste him there. “She was an English bitch who abandoned ye and ye deserve better Jamie, my bonnie man.”

Hearing her talk I could feel Jamie’s body tensing and the smile disappeared. He walked around her and his arms crossed in defense.

“Those are unkind words Laoghaire, they don’t suit a young lass. Besides what is between myself and Claire it’s not for ye to say.”

“What _is_? _What is,_ Jamie…?” Laoghaire’s eyes were sparkly with tears. “She left. Ye searched high and low for her and no sign of the woman. She went away by her own will.”

Oh, how I wished I had slapped the brat. Still the truth in her words and the effect they were having on Jamie’s face filled me with sadness.

“Aye, she might. Still I was wed to her before the altar of God and will see it through. I will wait for her to come back or she won’t, but that is for the future to say.”

“Jamie…” Laoghaire was now crying, her pale skin flushed by the argument and the heat of him just moments before. “I love ye. If you forsake her we can be together. Collum will allow it, ye know it, after some time she’ll be presumed dead and we can be marrit!”

“I won’t forsake her.”

“Why, Jamie?” She asked, her voice a mirror of despair.

His beautiful viking features were hard but there was a softness in his answer that made my insides turn liquid. His eyes drifted away like he was seeing something that was not actually there.

“Because I love her. I wanted her since the moment I first saw her. And for that there’s no other woman for me as long as I can summon her face. I had my love and lost it, Laoghaire. I canna be with ye because ye deserve to be that to someone and I canna be it.”

Hearing his words Laoghaire went mad.

“I can help ye forget Jamie! I will, you’ll see!” She cried and then darted out of the room.

I stayed with Jamie a little long after that. He seemed very tired and his body finally relaxed when he was alone. I allowed myself to appreciate how startlingly beautiful he really was in that moment, so strong and yet so vulnerable.

I still couldn’t believe what I had heard. He loved me. _Loved me_. I knew his feelings were strong, for sure, after all we had been friends and I was the first and only woman he had laid with. But I thought it to be lust, perhaps a strong form of infatuation…But there it was. He was not letting me go without a fight.

The dream started to fade like a photograph with blurred margins, I could already feel the cold metal of my two wedding rings in my fingers, and suddenly I had an urge to kiss Jamie, to stay there with him, to tell him how sorry I was for leaving, tell him all the secrets my heart could share.

I opened my eyes. I could still hear Frank’s and Herbert’s voices in the sitting room. I got up and sat in front of the mirror, my thoughts in a whirlwind, relieving it all.

God, how I had been jealous of Laoghaire when I saw that kiss. Was it only because he had been mine for some time? Was it some possessive feeling like the ones you have for an old boyfriend you broke up with but still have trouble seeing happy with someone else? Was I such a bad person?

 _No_ , I thought grimly, struggling to be honest with myself and finding it much easier after my barriers were broken by that dream. It was much more complicated than that. I was jealous because I wanted to be her. I wanted to be in her place in Jamie’s arms.

“What now?” I asked myself. I had no answer.

***

I started to dream with Jamie almost every night. Sometimes I relived our days and nights spent together and woke up after those dreams drenched in sweat and with a craving that seemed like a physical pain.

Other times I dreamt of him alone and saw him going about his tasks, talking to Collum, Alec or Mrs.Fitz, riding his horse, gazing to the infinite, sleeping restless. I knew he too dreamt of me.

But sometimes I had the strangest dreams. I saw me with him having conversations we never had, walking together near a house I didn’t recognize, sharing moments of passion filled with laughter, losing myself in him in a way I never did before. When he touched me in those soft and secret places I could feel the ripple effect in my sleeping body like circular waves around a stone casted in a pond.

I began to search him willingly in my dreams and went about my day anticipating the moment I would see him when my eyes were closed.

I pulled even further away from Frank. Selfishly I thought maybe I could have them both with me, one for the days and other for the nights, that somehow I could hold them both in my heart in a perfect balance. I had chosen Frank but I couldn’t let Jamie go. I was in too deep.

The life I had with Frank that I had wished so ardently in my younger years, began to feel too small, tight like an old jacket that didn’t quite fit my body. I wasn’t happy, at least not while awake. I felt like a traitor, unfaithful in my heart, but searched Jamie in my dreams every night, nonetheless.

Frank was a smart man. He knew something was amiss, but was committed to try to rekindle our relationship. He really tried to please me, coming home with little presents, taking me out to dinner, trying to put my pleasure first when he was in me. In those moments I remembered why I had come back and why I loved him. Still Jamie would come to me and I would follow him.

We went again to Scotland for his studies, taking a place in Edinburgh. I fought the idea, knowing in my heart that it would make things even worse, but he was adamant.

My dreams became even more vivid. I tasted Jamie’s skin between my lips and could feel his flesh tingle. I could smell the hay around me when he laid me down. His laughter and voice became more real to me than the sound of my own. I thought I was going mad.

One night Frank came home looking rather gloom. He asked me to sit next to him.

“What’s going on?” I asked, thinking that maybe his project was not going his way. He breathed deep, tightening his hands in a grip. Then he looked me in the eyes.

“Who is Jamie?” He asked coldly. “You’ve been calling his name in your sleep for some time now.”


	4. Part IV

**Part IV**

For a moment I thought I had imagined his question. I felt detached from my body like a victim after a crash, trying to reconnect body and mind and make them work simultaneously. He was staring impatiently at me waiting for an answer.

“What…?” I asked, my voice hoarse. I felt sick to my stomach.

“ _Jamie.”_ He stood up then, walking around me. “At first I thought I had imagined it. Then it happened again and I thought… well maybe she is dreaming about the war, that she is tending some soldier.” He stared again at me, waiting for a reaction. I had none to give. “But you called that damned name night after night in the past few days, Claire.”

“I don’t know…” I started, but he stopped me with his hand. He looked exhausted and much older than he was.

“Don’t lie. Don’t lie!” He almost screamed. “You called his name in a way that makes me sick, Claire – most of the times you moaned his name and you sighed it and….” He closed his eyes and swallow. “I need to know. Who is he?”

I was tired too. Tired of secrecy, lies, living my days with a hearth split in two. At that point I was so tired of reality, of living in my skin. I had to be brave and face the truth. I knew in my heart I had made a choice.

“I met Jamie when I was…away.” I started, forcing myself to reciprocate his gaze. “He helped me back then. He gave me shelter and was a friend when I needed one very badly.”

“Did you…” He gripped a cushion like he was stopping himself of doing it to me. “Did you have an affair with him?”

“No.” I answered. I stood up and faced him like an equal, our heights almost matching each other. “It was more than that, Frank. We were together.”

“Together.” He croaked. “What do you mean, _together_?”

 _The truth now, Claire. All of it,_ I thought.

“He loved me. I loved him.” I said, simply. “I still do.”

He sat down slowly, almost falling down, like he had received a fatal blow to his gut. I waited for the question I knew would come.

“Why did you come back?” He asked me in a pleading voice and I knew I could still save things had I wished to.

“I had a duty to you. You married me and gave me a home when I had no one else. I loved you, Frank.”

I knew he was waiting for me to say _“I love you still.”_ I couldn’t say it. After a while he spoke again.

“What changed?”  

“Jamie.” I said. “I gave you all of myself for as long as I could, but you only wanted some parts of me. Jamie showed me that I could wish for more out of life.”

“That is not fair, Claire!” He said in a loud voice. “I gave you everything. I treated you like a little queen, I accepted your eccentricities when everybody else thought I shouldn’t.”

“Don’t you see?!” I opened my arms. “That’s exactly it! You _tolerate_ those things in me and think you can move past them, but Jamie taught me I could be loved because of them, not in spite of them!”

“I could do better!” He came over me and locked me in his arms. “Is this about nursing? Do you want to work, is that it? Well you can do it. We can move anywhere you like. Please, tell me what to do and I’ll do it. I can’t lose you.”

I slowly put my hands in his chest and pushed him away.

“You already have.” I whispered. “It’s too late.” I touched his face with gentleness, wiping a tear.

“You deserve a wife that matches you. You deserve to live in some woman’s dreams too.” I kissed him softly in the lips. “I have to go.”

***

I left Frank’s house that same night and stayed in a room in a shared house with other girls. It was just a temporary solution while I put my thoughts in order and arranged everything for my journey.

This time I knew where and _when_ I was going and so I prepared. I did an exhaustive list of things that would be useful to me and after some laborious work finally came up with a shortlist with the items I was to take with me this time around. Of course penicillin was at the top of my list.

I continued to be with Jamie in my dreams and woke up with a smile thinking of our reunion. But in my heart I dreaded that moment too. I had left him, after all. What was he going to say to me when I came back? Would he still be waiting for me or was I to find him in Laoghaire’s arms? What if the dreams that filled my nights were only the product of my imagination and would never come to pass?

I was risking everything for an unknown future and gladly. A decision had been made and I couldn’t fathom a life without Jamie in it.

I went through the stones around Beltane. There are no words that could encompass that experience, the humming of bees that turns you inside out. I had packed some provisions but had no horse, of course, so my journey was slow and dangerous before I got to Leoch.

What kind of reception would await me there? Probably the wrath of the MacKenzie clan and most of all Colum and Dougal. They could throw me out, had me locked away in a dungeon, maybe even deliver me to the British. The thought of crossing paths again with Black Jack made cold sweat run down my spine.

But somehow I knew I could conquer everything if I found Jamie first. Everything would be alright as long as he was with me.

I arrived at Leoch at dawn. The sky was still somewhat dark but was turning purple and pink in spots and the birds were starting to salute the arrival of a new day. I was familiar with the grounds from my previous escape plan and dodged a few sentinels.

With a magnetic pull my steps turned to the stables. I knew that Jamie could still be asleep but had no doubt he was going to be there sooner than later.

When I was approaching the stables I could already hear a deep voice with a soft Highland lilt talking. At first I thought the person was speaking so low I couldn’t make out the words but then I realized someone was singing in Gaelic.

My pounding heart told me it was Jamie even before my head could recognize his voice. I came around the corner like I was sleepwalking.

He had his back turned in my direction, his hair in flaming glory. He was wearing only a shirt and kilt and was singing as he brushed a black horse. Jamie was my choice and I just had to take a leap and grab happiness in my own hands.

“Jamie.” I called. My voice came out as a whisper and so I swallowed hard and called again with all my might. “Jamie!”

He turned very slowly like he was afraid. He faced me then and I could see his eyes, a deep blue so like my dreams. I wanted to get naked and swim in that blue ocean forever, drown in it if he wished me so.

“Claire?” He called tentatively as if he was afraid of breaking something precious.

“Yes. It’s me.” I advanced until our bodies were almost in contact. I could smell his skin, the muskiness of him but also grass and rain and horse.

Before I could say anything more he kissed me. It was a clash of titans, he was demanding and powerful but immensely sweet. I could feel all his longing and sorrow and above all repressed love and desire. He captured my mouth and I surrendered it gladly, pure bliss drowning all my senses.

Sometime after we came apart. Our foreheads were joined, his eyes still closed.

“I’m sorry I left but I’m here now. Jamie, I will never leave you again. I came back to stay, if you want me.” I whispered as I closed my eyes. He was breathing faster than usual.

“Aye. I knew ye would, Sassenach…” I could feel him smiling, his mouth almost on mine. “I’ve been dreaming of ye.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end!


End file.
